Chapter 3

I guess that you could say the trip into town was routine. We had no trouble and arrived safely and quietly. As a matter of principle, I went by the gunshop while the women went grocery shopping. The gunsmith was not happy to see me, but I think that he was still afraid of me: maybe he was just afraid of whoever was closer to him.

Anyway, I bought enough ammunition to replace that what we had used up in the shooting practice. I also asked if he had a Starr DA like mine. I thought that it would be a good idea for Helen to have one for when we actually got into a firefight. It turned out that he had two of them, and I bought them both. I figured that Martha could do with one, too. I figured that one day of practice would be enough for them. Mostly, they would just have to unlearn the separate cocking of the hammer as required by the Colts. Hell, while I was about it, I bought two Winchesters in .44-40. We would keep the Henrys and Colts as spares, but we would all switch to the center-fire cartridges. I also bought four spare cylinders for the Starr DAs to simplify reloading.

As before, I left my purchases at the gunshop while I went to help the women with the groceries. I was not surprised to see the gunsmith scurry to the saloon to report to Jake Holbein what I had been up to. I noticed four men leave the saloon and ride out of town toward the Circle J ranch as we were loading the groceries into the wagon. I picked up the ammunition and the additional guns before we left town. I was sure, now, that we would be ambushed on our way home.

As soon as we got out of town, I had Martha stop the wagon and told them what I expected to happen. Martha looked apprehensive, but Helen looked like she could hardly wait for the shooting to start. I told the women to be on the lookout for anything suspicious and to duck down behind the walls of the wagon as soon as the shooting started. I knew that the wooden sidewalls of the wagon were probably thick enough to stop even a .44 bullet when it was fired from a pistol. Black powder was pretty good at pushing a bullet through soft skin, but solid wood could stop most pistol bullets. A rifle was a different story, but I didn't expect to see one of them today.

I took the time to load the two newly purchased Starr DAs and pushed them behind my belt just in case I needed extra fire power. The women loaded the rifles. There was not enough difference in the shooting characteristics between the Henry and the Winchester to mess them up, and the Winchester was a hell of a lot easier to reload during a fight. I told the women to use up the loaded Henrys first before switching to the Winchesters, but to stick to the Winchesters after that. Actually, I did not see the women firing more than 28 bullets each at any of Jake's men, so I was not worried, but I did want to cover all possible situations.

There was only one grove of trees near the road we had to use, so that was the obvious place for the ambushers to hit us. I warned the women of that, and I told Martha to drive as fast as she could past them trees, even if there was not any shooting at that place. Once she was about 200 yards past the trees, then she could slow down.

I was going to ride ahead to try to trip the ambush if it was there, so they should not worry about me leaving them. I was liable to be moving fast around and about them trees, but they were to tend to business about getting past them trees before they got shot. I emphasized that they were not to worry about me, as I was experienced at taking care of myself. Well, the women looked kind of dubious, but they did agree to follow my directions. I just hoped that they would!

When we got close, damned if a horse did not nicker. That was a sure giveaway that there were horses tethered among the trees. I shouted at Martha to start moving fast, and I swung away from the wagon to approach the trees at a more favorable angle.

I rode as fast as I could in a weaving pattern toward the trees. I was trying to keep from presenting a steady target, and it worked. Somebody fired at me from the tree line, and that was enough to make Martha and Helen duck down in the wagon, but they kept going past the trees.

I saw the powder smoke from the shooter in the trees, so I knew approximately where they were. I bent low over my horse and ran him up close to the trees. I was lucky in that some bullets did come uncomfortably close, but they all missed me. I jumped from my horse the moment he came to a stop, and I did not mess with my rifle: the range and conditions were going to be more favorable to a pistol.

I dropped the reigns and was confident that my well trained horse would stay where he was. I ran for the trees with bullets spattering around me. Again, some were close, but none hit me. With their attention divided like it was and me being the more dangerous opponent, nobody bothered to shoot at the women. I breathed a sigh of relief about that, but I did not dwell on that good fortune.

I ran to a tree that was large enough to be a good shelter and barrier to bullets and paused to catch my breath. The fools who were shooting at me had not moved from their original positions. I could tell that by the way the gunsmoke was concentrated into four little spots. I certainly did not intend to make that mistake, and planned to move after every shot if it was practical.

Most of the shooting was not aimed at me, but was simply fired in my general direction. Obviously, that indicated that there was no experienced direction of the shooters, and I should be able to knock them off without too much difficulty, provided I did not make a stupid mistake.

Just to keep up their interest, I fired two shots toward one of the enemy. I did not expect to hit him, I just wanted them to concentrate on where they thought I was. Immediately after firing those shots, I bent as low as I could and ran to another tree only a few feet away. That was to make sure that my tender hide was not exposed for too long. I paused long enough to reload my pistol before running for another tree. I was trying to get between the men and their horses so that they could not escape without giving me a shot at them.

On my fourth run, I spotted one of the galoots only partially concealed behind his tree. He looked like he was reloading his Colt through the loading gate, so he was not paying much attention to anything else. I held my pistol in both hands and propped the barrel against the tree to steady my aim even more. I aimed as carefully as I could and fired at the galoot while using single-action mode, just to make my aim that much more reliable.

It worked! I hit the man in the right kidney, and the bullet must have passed through even more vital organs. He fell without even crying out in pain, and never moved again. I do not know if the other men even knew that he had been shot. The other three men were still shooting at my original tree, and none of them had moved from when I first arrived. How dumb can a professional killer be?

I moved from behind that tree to another one, hoping to get another shot like that last one. I could see the tree sheltering another shooter, but I could not yet see the man. I moved two more times before I could clearly see the galoot. This time, I was directly behind him, and I had his whole body as a target. As before, I carefully aimed and put a bullet between his shoulder blades. I must of hit his spine because he did not cry out either. Now, I was beginning to wonder at my luck!

My luck must have changed while I was otherwise busy, because I drew a bullet in my direction the next time I ran between trees. Fortunately, I was bent over so the bullet went over my head, but it was enough to warn me to stop taking the fools for granted. I had seen the puff of smoke when the galoot fired his pistol, so I had a good idea of where he was. On the other hand, he might have finally gotten some sense and moved to another tree like I was doing.